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Cabirius had awoken with first light in his small prison. His head seemed much clearer than it had for many moons. For some time now he had found it difficult to remember so much as his name, but this morning, he could recall the events of the previous evening in some detail. It had seemed like a dream at the time, but he knew now that it had been true - Attis and Cybele visiting him in this cell, calling to the Goddess to release him from his torpor. Strangely enough, he felt no stab of jealousy at the thought that the two were clearly now lovers in every sense of the word. The physical arousal had been incredible after these two seasons of confinement, but he had felt no emotion, apart from simple friendship. How had he been so entranced by them both? Perhaps it had been a spell that was broken by the long separation. He still felt an unbreakable loyalty to them both. He realised now, though, that they were meant for each other. He had been no more than a test for Cybele and Attis, a challenge for them to overcome. Their mutual love for him had been set by the Goddess as a hurdle on the path of their own predestined bond. A Quest. He remembered that he had always found coupling with Cybele difficult. In his eagerness to please her and perhaps because of his own feeling of unworthiness, he had always spilled too quickly. He had had no such problem with Kelle. She was far more girl than Goddess. Well, more of a woman really. Certainly of the material world rather than the spiritual. He remembered with regret how terribly he had mistreated the poor creature, when her only crime had been to want to please him. Both times he had coupled with her, he had given no regard to her own pleasure, and only sought to assuage his own frustration and anger by using her body as a vessel. He had felt his abuse of Kelle so monstrous that when they had come for him that day, he had offered no defence. What they accused him of was at least to some degree true. She had not resisted him by any means, but he still felt that he had violated her, despite her consent. He deserved any punishment. In his grief and self-loathing of that day, he would gladly have thrown himself off the northern cliff if he had been given the chance. It seemed so long ago now. A lifetime ago. Suddenly, he felt ready to start again. He knew that Thomias was tainting both his food and drink with some herb to numb his mind and body. He had at first tried to resist out of hatred for his captor, then he had found that the numbness was a welcome relief from his private torments. He had happily eaten and drunk the poison, and passed the days in silent stupour. Now, though, he thought for the first time of escape, and knew that his first escape would need to be from the hold of the poison. He would bury the food as Attis had done as a child. That way, Thomias would not suspect that he was gathering his strength to rebel. Last night, he remembered Cybele telling him that they would secretly bring him untainted food and drink. It would take some time to recover, as he was now a mere husk of the man he had once been, but at least his reasoning was intact, so a full recovery was perfectly possible. His strongest desire was to find Kelle and beg her forgiveness for the way in which he had treated her. He had treated her with no more respect than a farmer shows her cows, and far less kindness. But then, it had been a half-year. Kelle was probably a farmer herself by now, or a Healer with her own hut. She would certainly have been released by flux from the life of a Novice. No doubt, she had a score of lovers amongst the younger Priests, and gave him no thought at all. Perhaps Cybele would carry a message of apology to Kelle on his behalf. He would ask her this very evening, when she came to bring him food. He knew that it was unrealistic for him to hold to a hope that Kelle may want him still, but he remembered her final words after that violent coupling - that she would gladly have him if ever he wanted her for herself, not as a substitute for another. If only that were still true, he thought longingly. Life could be so beautifully simple. He wondered if he was able to speak. Some herb that they gave him seemed to prevent his voice from functioning. He tentatively tested his throat. There was only the very quietest whisper, and his vocal chords pained him like a knife when he tried. Well, nomatter, he thought. He could write messages to Cybele in the dirt floor. His fingers were very sluggish and weak, but at least they worked. That day after the Harvester Moon had gone quickly. Cabirius had been filled with a lifetime of thoughts and memories, a flood after the long drought of these many mindless moons. He found himself giggling like a child, revelling in the feeling of stretching his mind like an unused muscle. He thought through complex mathematical problems, and argued questions of theology with himself, taking both sides alternately. His gaoler had not come that morning with his meal, and by afternoon, Cabirius was overcome by an engulfing nausea. As he retched into his midden, he realised that the poison had such a hold on his body that lack of it was causing sickness. This would not prevent his plan, however. He would simply need to take care that Thomias did not realise what he was doing. How could Thomias realise anything, though, when it seemed Thomias had forgotten all about him. Finally, as the sky was darkening, he heard someone approaching. He fell onto his bed and assumed a blank stare. There was the sound of someone fumbling in difficulty with the lock. Jenna, the one-armed Healer, entered the hut with a flourish. It was surely she who provided Thomias with the poison, for he would not have the knowledge to brew it himself. She had looked in on Cabirius a few times in his long moons of stupour, he vaguely recalled. She only glanced at him now, and picked up his stool from the ground to sit at the table. From a pocket in her gown, she produced a parcel wrapped in cloth. As she unwrapped it, he smelled the familiar earthy smell of his daily meal - herbs, mushrooms, poppies. This time, baked in a small loaf, still warm from her fire. She threw it to him, or more precisely, at him. It thudded against his chest and fell onto the floor in front of the bed. He suddenly panicked that it would be clear to her that his senses had returned. How exactly had he responded in his stupour? It was impossible for him to be sure. Move slowly, he told himself. Be biddable in all, but not actually co-operative. You are a small slow creature at the end of a Winter's sleep, he imagined. Cabirius knew that it would be the most important deception of his life, to convince his captors that he was still a mindless and helpless fool. He sat up slowly from his thin mattress on the floor, then bent down to pick up the loaf. He broke it in half, and pulled a wad from the centre. She was not watching him directly, so he took the chance to drop a large chunk down his sleeve, then pretended to chew. Presently, there was another movement at the door, and Thomias entered. He did not even look in Cabirius's direction, but addressed Jenna with some urgency. "Did you find her?" "Yes, where I first looked. In Cybele's hut," the Healer said. "Then where is she now?" "She is there still," Jenna answered bitterly. "Then why did you not seek me out earlier? We should return there and demand that she is released to you, her physician. She would no doubt be ill, after all." "No, we can do nothing," Jenna replied. "Cybele has called upon the prerogative of the Chosen One, and taken Kelle to her bed." Cabirius had difficulty in maintaining his blank gaze when Jenna made such an outlandish claim. Why would Cybele, of all people, take Kelle into her bed? "But who would fall for such a pantomime?" Thomias challenged. "No-one on the whole Isle would believe that it was anything more than an act to cloister away her old lover's accuser." "It looked to be quite real to me." Jenna hissed, to which Thomias could make no response. Cabirius tried to continue pretending to eat his bread as though oblivious to the conversation, but he felt sure his eyes must be shining like an owl's. "How did this all happen, Jenna?" Thomias finally asked. "Why did she run from you? The potion has been so effective until now." Cabirius suddenly realised with horror that he had not been the only prisoner of these two. Somehow, they had contrived to keep the victim captive as well as the alleged attacker. His own sentence felt deserved, somehow, but that they had kept Kelle in a stupour as well filled him with rage. It took every grain of restraint that he could muster not to leap up and try to throttle them both. If he had thought it possible, he would have done just that. But he knew that he was still very weak, and could barely stand. And he knew that both Jenna and the Teacher carried knives. He would not stand a chance against the two of them - not yet, anyway. He would have to wait. "I know not. There was nothing out of the ordinary this morning. I simply asked her to take a walk." Jenna said. "You had not beaten her or anything of the sort?" Thomias pressed. "What would you know? I have never hurt Kelle. I use her for my pleasure, as did you, but I do her no harm." Cabirius was burning in fury to his very soul. He knew that he could maintain his deception no longer, but then as he went to leap up at them, he fell to the ground and started to convulse violently. "You fool!" Jenna shouted at Thomias. "Did you not feed him the medicine this morning?" "I forgot. With Kelle's disappearance, and.." Thomias stammered. Slowly, Cabirius's fit eased, and he started again to retch. They pulled him onto the mattress, and Jenna glared at Thomias. "I shall go and make some strong poppy brew," she said. "Let us be more careful in future, Priest, or we shall have two doves flown their coop instead of one." "Now that one has flown, will the second's freedom not be far behind anyways?" Thomias observed gloomily. "She only needs to speak out to clear him." "I shall think of something," Jenna stated firmly, as she climbed to her feet and left the small hut. She closed and bolted the door behind her, and Thomias wondered for an instant if she intended to turn on him and keep him prisoner himself. No, of course not, it was merely in case anyone passed by this way - an open door would draw attention. Cabirius lay helpless at his feet. His pale skin was drenched with a cold sweat, but he tossed and pulled at his clothing as though he were burning. Thomias sat on the mattress with the younger Priest's head in his lap, stroking his brow and matted hair. "I am so sorry, my sweet gentle Cabirius," Thomias murmured. "I never meant you any harm. If only you had stayed loyal to me, and not foolishly followed that Goddess's whore. I would have looked after you. You would have been safe..." It was late twilight when Cybele slipped from her hut and crossed the Isle to Cabirius's remote prison. She had left Attis tending Kelle, who had suddenly fallen violently ill. She had insisted on fulfilling her promise to Cabirius, despite all that had occurred in that long day. She had a jar of fresh spring water, and a parcel of buttered bread and cheese for him. She approached the hut with some care. The door was bolted, and she could see no sign of anyone in the vicinity of the hut. As she went to open the door, though, she heard a voice from within, and quickly fell to the ground. Thomias! How was it that the door was bolted? She had nearly made a disastrous error, and she swore to the Goddess that she would make no assumptions of safety next time. She slipped around the building to the window that faced the sea. Here, she would not be seen if another approached the hut. She listened carefully to the voice within. "I remember how good you were as a boy," Thomias said. "You always did as you were told. It was that Attis, was it not? He was a bad influence on you. He may have been four years younger, but he had the mind of a demon. It was he who made you refuse me, was it not?" Cybele barely recognised the voice as Thomias, as it was laced with an uncharacteristic vulnerability. She then heard Cabirius retching, and realised that he was ill in the same manner as Kelle. It must have had something to do with the mind-numbing poison, she thought. Jenna was unlikely to tell her if there was an antidote, but perhaps Kelle knew herself, now she was returning to her senses. Within the hut, Cabirius was clearly suffering from a delirium. He moaned and cried out. "Kelle! No, no, not you too. Kelle, my love!" Cybele wondered if there was any meaning to his words, or if the fever was distorting his mind. Kelle, indeed? What a strange web the Goddess spun. She heard someone approaching and opening the door with difficulty. Jenna spoke to Thomias within the hut. "Here, give him this. And take care he swallows it all," she ordered. There were noises within, then she heard them both leave. As their voices died off into the distance, Cybele quickly slipped through the door and fell to Cabirius's side. He moved little, but burned with fever. She knew that she had to act quickly, before the draught could be absorbed, and she stuck her fingers deep into the back of his throat. He gagged, then vomited all over her gown and the floor. "Yes, Cabirius. Get rid of it all," she encouraged, stroking his burning brow.
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